


Complicated Engagements

by botanicalbouquet



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, The Proposal (2009)
Genre: Assistant Grantaire, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Sort Of, The Proposal AU, ill update characters and tags as I go along, lawyer Enjolras, probably a lot of pining and them being idiots, the E/R The Proposal AU that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botanicalbouquet/pseuds/botanicalbouquet
Summary: Enjolras worked too much. It came to something when he would no longer argue with the statement and instead accept it rather as a well known fact. He would perhaps like to claim that it was a new thing and simply came along with having a job he loved. But alas. No.Along comes Grantaire, his headstrong assistant who wants nothing more than to do the opposite of his job and make Enjolras’ life as difficult as he pleases. That is until a complication arises and everything is up in the air, leaving the two of them to deal with it in the worst way possible; Together.Alternatively - A The Proposal E/R AU that nobody asked for.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. A Strange Proposal

Enjolras worked too much. It came to something when he would no longer argue with the statement and instead accept it rather as a well known fact. He would perhaps like to claim that it was a new thing and simply came along with having a job he loved. But alas. No. He had always, for as long as he could remember, been a workaholic. He had vivid memories of, as a child, diving into books with the intention of reading several a day. Or he would set research tasks for himself, creating booklets and pamphlets on the most ridiculous topics. One in particular he could remember was one on cats; it was an entire booklet with research he had gotten from the library and from asking his neighbours and friends, complete with an index and coloured pictures, all held together with wonky staples. The stapler had, of course, been snuck out of his dad’s office where he was strictly told not to go. But the young blonde had had a rebellious streak, even at the mere age of seven, and how could all those books be there and yet no one ever read them? It made him scowl just thinking about it. It was an injustice. And Enjolras couldn’t stand to see injustice, whatever form it came in. 

However, the scowl he wore at age seven wasn’t far from his current expression - hunched over at his work desk and scowling at a series of emails as if it would make them disappear or resolve themselves somehow. It had been this way for at least an hour as he deleted the same line once again to try to write it tactfully.

“Ugh,” he murmured, dragging a hand down his face with a drawn out sigh. “How on earth do I say ‘your case doesn’t have a chance even with the most expensive lawyer in the world’ tactfully?” It was, of course, a question to himself since he was alone in the office but he supposed he felt a little better for voicing his frustrations out loud.

The ticking of the clock on the wall. The chatting of the people outside of his office door in the other cubicles and the hallways. The low hum of traffic outside his window that was slightly cracked open. The phone ringing. The phone ringing? Damnit.

He wheeled his chair over to the edge of his desk, plucking the phone from the receiver. It was a bit of an eyesore, really, in the oddest way. The entire office decor was subtle tones of black and grey. However, after a client had broken his previous grey phone in a fit of rage after an argument about his case, his insufferable assistant had replaced it for him. With a bright, lime green phone. It matched nothing in the room, it had the most annoying ringtone he had ever heard and.. Well, okay, he would probably find any reason to hate it just because of who had gotten it. Perhaps that was petty. His relationship with his personal assistant was a tricky one. It always seemed difficult for them to strike a balance between having a raging argument and blatantly ignoring one another. 

“Good morning. This is Francois & Co, Enjolras speaking. How can I help?” The words came out almost automatically, not glancing down at the phone to check the caller ID. 

“My my, did I bother you? Quite frankly, it sounds as though you’d rather be reciting the Declaration of Independence backwards whilst trying to memorise pi,” came the familiar voice of his assistant down the line. He leaned his head away from the phone for a moment to resist the urge to either grunt or hang up. Instead, he sighed and his assistant took this as a cue to continue. “I think I could quite possibly list all the things you sound like you’d rather be doing right now. Getting stung by fifty bees at once. Listening to the audiobook version of Twilight on a loop. Or New Moon, that would be more punishing. Spraying yourself in the eyes with aftershave. Listening to your friends shitty slam poetry performance. Drinking a nice, hot cup of-“

“What do you want, Grantaire?”

Ah, Grantaire. A thorn in his side. A pain in the ass. A total liability. His worst nightmare. His permanent headache. His personal assistant. 

“I wasn’t done with my list but okay. /I/ don’t want anything. As a matter of fact, it’s the two suits in the reception area that want you fo-“

“You better not be calling from the reception phone, in earshot of them, the last thing we want is for the reputation of the company t-“

“To plummet because of my careless attitude towards my work,” Grantaire finished in a mocking and dramatic tone. What Enjolras hated most was that it was entirely accurate and that was exactly where he had intended to go with his mini speech. No wonder their conversations often descended into arguments. “Yeah, yeah, heard it fifty million times. No need. Look. I’ve never seen these two before and it’s something about a work visa or work permit or something like that? Not sure if that means anything to you but I can tell them to piss of, if you want.”

The line stayed silent for a long few moments, Enjolras’ gaze fixed where it sat looking at a stack of paperwork on his desk. Work visa. He felt a strong pang of nausea, as if he could throw up at any moment. A chill ran over him, making him feel scorchingly hot at first but then ice cold. This wasn’t exactly the visit he was expecting to receive today. He could hear Grantaire getting impatient as he struggled to find the will for words to form in his mouth. They barely made it from his brain before dying, succumbing to the panic that had gripped him so viciously. He tore away his gaze and broke his frozen stance when Grantaire spoke again, shaking out one of his hands to try and rid himself of some nerves before he responded. 

“‘Cause I could totally tell ‘em to piss off, wouldn’t be a big deal. You’ve got a client meeting in like ten minutes anyway so I could tell them to come back tomorrow. Politely. Company rep bullshit and all that.”

He could hear the lopsided grin down the phone. Enjolras made a noise to say ‘no’ while he got his act together enough to confirm it more vocally, one hand dragging through his blonde curls and tugging a little to ground himself in the stinging feeling. 

“No,” the words eventually came, “Send them in. It’s fine, really. Perhaps just uhm...” He stood and began to tidy his desk a little, moving to the mirror to tidy his hair and straighten his tie before realising he was limited by the phone wire. Another disadvantage to the Grantaire selected phone. “Tell them they’ll have to make it quick because I’m due a client any moment now. Stay by your phone, if I buzz you, get in here. Thanks, Grantaire.”

He heard a quick “yessir!” as he put down the phone but chose not to address it or focus on it at all. He had more to concentrate on right now. 

After quickly downing the rest of his coffee, which was now cold since he’d entirely forgotten about it until now, he rushed around his office to try and tidy things and make sure he came across as an organised and professional individual. Which he was. Through and through. The reason he’d worked his way up to having his own office and not a cubicle so fast was because of his organisation and dedication. It, once again, came back to his workaholic trait. Probably. But if these people were who he thought they were, they probably wouldn’t care so much about how organised he was or how tidy his office was. Although he supposed it couldn’t hurt too much to make a good impression. Maybe they’d go a little easier on him if they thought he was serious about this and that his job was important to him. 

It was a few moments of hectic tidying and organising before he heard footsteps along the hallway that lead to his door. When he paused to listen carefully enough, it sounded like two pairs of flat shoes and one pair of stilettos. It was usually his only way of gaining a first impression of clients he either hadn’t spoken to at all or had only spoken to over emails or the phone. It was quite common for Grantaire to organise his diary for the most part so there were quite a few meetings he went into blind or quite a few clients that he only had colloquial notes from his assistant for. One time, the notes had been scribbled onto a dirty, coffee stained napkin that looked like it had either been plucked from the trash, the floor or the bottom of someone’s shoe. It had simply read ‘idk she sounds batshit crazy??? Something about custody of the cats and their Shakespeare play collection. Weirdos. Bring ur mace, Apollo. Wanna meet tomorrow at 2pm’. That had been the catalyst to one of their most blazing arguments. People tended to scatter when Enjolras walked down the hallway anyway, prone to being strict, snappy and bad tempered at the best of times. Oh, but when he and Grantaire were arguing in the break room or somewhere other than his office? People scattered twice as fast. Some even collected their things to head home early for the day. 

“Come in!” His own voice, which had called out automatically, snapped Enjolras out of his dazed state as he moved behind is desk to make it look as though he’d just stood to welcome them. Paint on a smile. Professionalism. Stay calm.

The door opened to reveal Grantaire first. His dark curls were tidy for the most part, with a stray curl looking as if it were stuck to his forehead and another sticking out just above his left ear. He had to stop himself crossing the room to tidy it himself. Out of pure annoyance, of course. Of all the things that annoyed him in this office, Grantaire was at the top of the list, just above people not replenishing the printer paper. Grantaire was followed closely by a man and a woman, both of who smiled tightly as they met Enjolras’ eyes across the room. 

“Come in, come in. Excuse the mess, it’s been a hectic day. Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Water?” The blonde asked, gesturing to the two chairs on the other side of his desk so they would sit. As the both shook their head, he shot Grantaire a curt look, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as the man winked and pulled the door shut on his way out.

There was an awkward beat of silence as they all sat and regarded one another for a moment. The woman held a file, her brunette hair pulled back into a bun and the light blue shirt she wore underneath her suit jacket contrasting with her dark skin. The file. It was thick, paper looking as though it was fit to burst from any gap available. Was that all about him? Surely not. The man was quite tall, even taller than Enjolras, and the light streaming in from the window made him look eerily pale. He found himself hoping that his own complexion didn’t give away how nervous he was despite feeling as though he’d paled along with his feeling of nausea. The man’s shirt was untucked but hidden behind the briefcase that he’d sat in his lap rather than leaving it in the floor. He was soon snapped out of his observations though when the woman began to speak. 

“Thank you for finding the time to see us today, Mr?...”

“Enjolras. Just call me Enjolras, everyone does.”

“Right, Enjolras. Well, I’m Angela and this is my associate Walter,” she gestured to the man sat beside her, “and I’m sure you’re aware of why we’ve come to speak to you today?”

He nodded, head feeling as though it stuttered for a moment in the small affirmative movement. “About my work visa, I assume? What exactly is the problem with it?”

“Indeed, it’s about your visa. Well, unfortunately, it seems as though you’ve... How shall I put this. Overstayed.” 

He felt his cold flush returning as he realised, glancing briefly to the calendar. It became apparent in that moment that he’d forgotten to submit a form to renew it. About three months or so ago. The form was, more than likely, still in the bottom drawer of his desk and blank.

“As you know from your previous application, it takes quite a while to process and you’ve already passed the deadline for resubmission by seventy-four days.” Angela continued, discussing the terms as she plucked papers from the file to slide across the desk, Walter occasionally chiming in to elaborate on some of the terms and how long things took. His options. Good lord, he was being given his options. It felt as though the room was spinning. The room was spinning and he was going to fall out of it. Or his spirit was going to rise from his body and float straight out of the window and away from having to deal with this situation.

“So unless you had any other particular reason to stay, we’re afraid you’ll have to travel back to your original place of residence by Monday or-“

“I’m getting married.” The words came out before he could stop them, watching as the two raised their eyebrows at him. Almost as if his lie was somewhat believable but too much of a coincidence to be believable in that moment. Oh no. “To a citizen. That... Is why I wasn’t sure about the form,” he continued when they didn’t speak, “Because, of course, I assumed I would be eligible for a spouse visa, yes? My ring is actually getting resized at the moment.” He lifted his left hand and wiggled his fingers for a moment before he dropped it back onto his des, smile almost bashful as if he were embarrassed about being so open about his personal life. Which wasn’t far from the truth, he usually kept his personal life to himself.

Angela and Walter exchanged expressions for a moment before nodding and making small humming noises of confirmation, beginning to collect all the paperwork they had set out. Then, Walter opened the briefcase to slide across a different pack of paperwork. “I see, Enjolras. Well, I suppose that definitely works in your favour then. I’m sure you’re aware you’ll need to go through the interview process? Not that I’m insinuating this is a false situation but we have a duty to check.” Enjolras took the paperwork as it was handed to him, looking through it and feigning interest to try and look significantly less panicked and harassed. “You and your fiancé will have to go through individual interviews, a home visit, character references from friends and family. It’s a rather intense process. So before we go ahead with this and get the ball rolling, are you absolutely sure?”

Enjolras forced a smile and nodded firmly, hands clasping atop his desk. Anything to provide distraction from his clammy palms and the twitch to his left eye. “Absolutely. We have nothing to hide so none of that will be a problem. We’ll pass all of that with flying colours. And hopefully, by then, my ring will finally be the correct size.” He joked, trying to seem as natural as he could as he chuckled.

“Wonderful. Well, it looks like we can get that going for you, then.” Walter snapped the briefcase shut and smiled, once again exchanging a glance with Angela. “Soon though, we will have to speak to your fiancé. Collect some details, confirm their side of things, that sort o-“

A firm knock on the door cut him off mid-sentence, the door swinging open swiftly a beat later. Grantaire stepped in, smile a strange balance between mischievous and apologetic. “I’m so sorry to interrupt but Enjolras, your client just arrived and they’re looking rather... Well, you know how they are.” He grimaced and Enjolras looked between his assistant and the two in front of him who were just starting to rise from their seats.

“Well. Angela. Walter. Look no further.” Enjolras spoke after a moment, standing along with them and gesturing to Grantaire. Grantaire who was looking particularly confused, his brows adorably furrowed as he glanced between them. “This is Grantaire, you’ve met him already. We’ve been keeping things quiet because... Well, in an office like this, word travels so fast. It’s better to keep things to yourselves until the last possible moment.” He feigned a sheepish smile and crossed the room to glance to Grantaire, reaching out a hand for the other with a desperate look in his eyes.

He must have been having a moment where he wanted to be helpful without mouthing off or asking questions because he reached and took the hand that was being offered to him. Enjolras made a note to himself to ask Grantaire if he’d ever done any acting before because he seemed to so easily squeeze his hand and paint on a grin without a moment of hesitation.

“Now, I’m so sorry to rush you but my client is wanting. If you could call back later or tomorrow, we can get things set up?” His smile was tight and his grip on Grantaire’s hand was almost too hard, a warning not to let go just yet. That this was serious and important and like hell he would be holding his hand if he had any other option.

“Of course, thank you for your time.” Angela shook his free hand, moving to shake Grantaire’s before heading out of the door. Walter wasn’t far behind her with a murmuring of a similar sentiment and shaking their hands, finishing with a quick “you look like a wonderful couple” before he walked out. 

As soon as they disappeared through the door into the reception area, Grantaire pulled his hand back to shut the door firmly. His hands pressed against it before he began to laugh. Loudly. In fact, it was borderline cackling by this point. He was belly laughing while Enjolras just scowled pointedly at the back of his head. It was a default expression for half their conversations. 

“I’m not sure what about this you’re finding so funny!” The blonde hissed under his breath, arms folding across his chest so tight that he could feel the pull of the sleeves on his suit jacket. 

Grantaire, eventually, turned around and wiped the tears from his eyes as he leaned back against the door. “We make a wonderful couple. Us? A couple? I’m sorry, but that’s absolutely hilarious? A more important question is why aren’t you laughing?” He snorted and wiped his face again, laughter now ebbing way but leaving a grin behind. “So am I going to get some sort of explanation or do we have to have that awkward chat about personal space in the office, Mr. Hand Holder. Cute.”

“Don’t call me that,” Enjolras snapped, “and will you keep your voice down? They might hear you and I don’t need that to deal with too.” He sighed, a whine slipping into the exhale as he pinched sharply at the bridge of his noise. The headache that was beginning to form was either from stress or a lack of hydration. It was anyone’s guess. “I... Well, I’m here on a work visa. Which expired two, three months ago and I forgot to send in the forms to renew it. So now, to summarise, they want to deport me because I overstayed accidentally.”

Grantaire, throughout the whole explanation, placed his hands on his hips and regarded Enjolras with the most ridiculous expression that was somewhere between a smirk and a frown. “Right, okay, got it. You’re an idiot who needs to keep better track of important shit like this. So why exactly does his concern me and where on earth do I come into this?”

There were a few long moments of silence. They looked at one another, Enjolras looking dishevelled and small amongst his halo of blonde curls and his formal suit. Grantaire looked curious, unsure if he had ever seen Enjolras look anything other than stiff or stressed. Then, it was Enjolras who eventually broke the silence. 

“I need you to marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love them so much. Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	2. One of Many Firsts

“I need you to marry me.”

The words hung in the air for a long time, both of the men just staring at one another. What are you supposed to say when your nightmare of a boss asks you to marry you? After what felt like eternity, Grantaire reacted in the only way that really made sense - he burst out laughing. Enjolras scowled and couldn’t turn away fast enough to hide the frustrated flush that tinted his cheeks. He moved over to his desk to slide the paperwork that Angela and Walter had left behind into his bag. He couldn’t even look at his assistant, who was still laughing.

Leaving him to laugh for a little while, Enjolras dropped into his desk chair to respond to an email. Perhaps if he made it look like he was busy and serious then they could get this over and done with a lot faster. However, he got the feeling that none of this was going to be uncomplicated or straightforward. Anything with Grantaire was never simple. 

“Are you quite done yet?” He asked with a sigh, eyes flicking up from his computer screen to where Grantaire was leaning against the door. If this were any other situation, he would’ve maybe cracked a smile at how amusing it looked, almost seeming as if it were an image pulled from a dramatic music video.

Grantaire, being the cheeky jerk (in Enjolras’ words) that he was, held up his index finger to indicate Enjolras to wait while he carried on laughing. As the laughter died out, he made his way across the office and dropped heavily into the chair Angela had been sat in. Once he was sat, he dragged it forwards a bit at a time to be right up to the desk so he could lounge across it, forearms leant over the files and papers that sat there.

“First you laugh at me and now you’re leaning on my paperwork. Get /off/.” Enjolras snapped, snatching pieces of paper from under the man’s forearms to pile it to one side. He absolutely did not look at the way his shirt sleeves pulled a little around his upper arms. The upper arms that looked as though they could be toned beneath the shirt material, especially along with his broad shoulders. No, he was a professional and of course he didn’t look. 

“I’m good, thanks. Cushions your uncomfortable desk for my delicate arms,” Grantaire retorted with a mocking pout.

“It’s not supposed to be comfortable, its supposed to be practical.”

“If that your philosophy in life, then wow. You’re gonna have a hard time with choosing furniture. I bet you’re the kind of guy to have a hard, uncomfortable mattress because its better for your back or some shit like that.”

“Firmer mattresses have been proven to be better for your posture. They’re practical, healthy and they- Stop dragging me off topic, Grantaire.”

“Right,” Grantaire hummed lowly, turning to lounge sideways in his chair and kick his feet up onto the edge of the desk. He repeated this several times, Enjolras pushing them off every time, before the blonde eventually gave in and spent the next few moments glaring at his scuffed shoes. “Back to the marriage? Will I have to write vows and stuff? Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that seriously without laughing. And why me?”

“I panicked. Look, just....” Enjolras sent the email he was working on and rotated his chair to face Grantaire properly. He would be surprised if they managed to make this work. “We can elope or something. Quick, private ceremony and I can pay for the divorce afterwards. Don’t want to inconvenience you and your personal life too much.”

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience yours either. Although, I hear that you go home to instant ramen or take out and you take your work home with you.” Grantaire lifted his brows. It wasn’t a question so much as it was an accusation, seeing if Enjolras would agree or disagree. It was leaning more towards an agreement when the blonde just huffed and wrinkled his nose. “Just what I thought. Hey, I could have brought up the more ridiculous of the office rumours. Something about you devouring the souls of children for breakfast and that you sleep in a coffin. But let’s not go there. Do I get an explanation then? About how in the hell you ended up here, asking your assistant to fake marry you for a visa?”

Enjolras had become so used to being so closed off and keeping his life to himself. The thought of opening that up to someone, to sharing his space with someone, it made him feel sick. After a long pause though, he began to speak, hoping he could explain whilst being as vague as possible. 

“Well, I was here on a work visa. Which you already know. I started... Started out doing contracted work. Short contracts, cover work for different firms. Then I got my job here, worked my way up and I completely forgot about my application.” He let out a long sigh, glancing to Grantaire and having to blink in surprise when he noticed he wasn’t grinning or smirking. It looked as though he was just listening. Genuinely. This was different for them. “Then they came today and... I don’t want to be sent back.”

“Sent back where?” Grantaire asked, voice strangely gentle. It was especially odd considering how hard he’d been laughing mere minutes ago. 

“Does that matter?” He responded airily, watching as his assistant lifted his brows. He wasn’t exactly a fan of talking about himself in any capacity, even if it was to his sort of fiancé. 

“It does matter but I’ll leave it for now, stresshead. You’ll have to tell me at some point, you know. Gotta know everything and then some if we want to even have a shot at this. So. We get married, you get your visa and then we get divorced. What do I get out of this?” Grantaire asked, picking up the previously thrown pen from his lap to twirl it between his fingers as he looked at Enjolras. Of course it would have to be a mutually beneficial situation. 

Enjolras leaned his elbows on his desk, fingers linking and chin balancing on top of his now joined hands. Grantaire was his assistant. A glorified receptionist most of the time. From what he knew about him already, he knew that he didn’t get paid all the much and he always found something to complain about. “I can pay you.”

“Like I’m a hooker, that’s wonderful.”

“No, no, /no/, that’s not what I meant. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! I have the utmost respect for people who work in adult industries and- Off topic. I just meant that... Okay, a pay rise. Yes? That way it isn’t so much me paying you and more like... A promotion. A deserved promotion. You can be a senior personal assistant. Extra holiday days, a healthy pay rise and a company car.”

Grantaire could tell Enjolras was desperate just by the way those unblinking eyes fixed on him intensely, seemingly not breathing as he awaited an answer. So he just enjoyed the moment, letting his feet flick down off the edge of the desk. He slowly sat straighter in his seat, leaning his forearms on the desk once more. He was much closer to his boss this way, eyes squinting and lips pursing to show he was putting a lot of thought into this (whether that be pretend or real thought). Their eyes met and Grantaire tried desperately to keep a straight face. It only lasted a few more moments before Grantaire sat up and nodded with a smile.

“Okay, fine,” he began, only to continue as Enjolras let out a relieved sigh, “/but/! This whole wedding stuff. You’re buying me a tux to wear. I just know you have savings and live in some fancyass Manhattan apartment. Probably a penthouse. We’ll need to do some fake dates and stuff, talk pictures. You can totally pay for dinners and coffee.” He winked, to which Enjolras just leaned back in his chair and nodded. He was taking it particularly well. “And we’ll have to convince our family and friends.”

The look on Enjolras’ face at that made it seem like a ghost had just floated through the wall; lips pressed tightly into a thin line, eyes clearly resisting the urge to widen as he forced himself to blink, clenched jaw and all the tension in the world visibly sat on his shoulders.

***

The last thing Enjolras expected was for Grantaire to be so dedicated and committed when it came to their fake marriage. He assumed that his assistant would have half forgotten about it but that thought was dampened when his phone buzzed as he poured his second cup of coffee. Pausing a moment to steel himself for whatever it said, he took a sip of coffee as he opened the message;

Grantaire, 7:23AM: yo yo, boss. morning. although i’m sure you’ll already be awake and downing coffee by about now. we need to get some dates in, take pics. do all that cutesy stuff that couples doooooo. ; ) so, apollo, i am going to date you so hard. meet me at lunchtime at the coffee shop two blocks from work. you know the one. blue sign and you pretend it isn’t your fav when it so obviously is. see you at noon, love! xoxo

Enjolras, 7:25AM: Good morning, Grantaire. Yes, you’re correct, I’m already awake and on my second cup. I suppose coffee and lunch won’t be too horrendous. I’ll see you there at noon.

Grantaire 7:25AM: what, no kisses???? >:( xoxo

Enjolras 7:28AM: You’re insufferable. Xx

The last thing he wanted to admit was how long he stared at his phone for, wondering if his text would gain any sort of response. It didn’t. It was around quarter to eight when he eventually got up to brew another pot of coffee, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He knew it was bad idea to stay up until the early hours of the morning catching up on paperwork when he got up so early every day. But if time told anything, it was certainly telling that Enjolras never learned his lesson. No matter how sleep deprived he was.

For the first time in quite a while, he found himself staring at his clothes with doubt in his mind. He would usually pluck out a suit or just anything formal that vaguely matched, along with whatever pair of shoes were closest as he headed past the shoe rack and out of the door. But now, with the impending meeting with Grantaire, he found himself wondering what would actually look nice. So he did what any sensible person would do. He videocalled his best friend, Courfeyrac. He had been the first one of his friends that Enjolras had met, quite literally hours within landing here. It was Courfeyrac that helped him find his feet and helped him gather the group that Enjolras now knew to be Les Amis. 

“Help me,” He said as soon as it pinged to indicate Courfeyrac had answered, his friend’s face appearing on his screen moments later. 

“It’s dawn, man, what’s up?” He asked through a yawn, clearly sat up and dressed already. 

“It said you were active or I wouldn’t have called. Anyway. You’re up.”

“Begrudgingly. Ferre is on the early shift at work, so. Been awake since he got up at four.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re both doing well. Stay hydrated, make sure you’re both getting enough sleep, you know I worry about you bo-“

“Enj. Dude. Darling. I know. We appreciate it, okay? You gotta take off some time from work soon so we can get together outside of meetings. They don’t count. You spend the whole time either guiding, giving speeches, organising the next meeting or work paperwork.”

Enjolras just nodded sheepishly at that, knowing he was more than guilty of his attention being torn several different ways at once. He didn’t get much chance to say anything before Courfeyrac continued;

“Enough about that for now, let’s put a pin in it. What do you need, my friend, you’re looking even more flustered than usual. Talk to me.”

So he did. He told him everything. From the forgetting to file his visa paperwork to the outfit dilemma. When he got to the end of his tale of woe, Courfeyrac began to laugh. So hard that Enjolras considered hanging up and texting him to call back when he could breathe. Instead, he patiently sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, and waited for him to quieten down. Why did everyone laugh when he told them about this situation?!

“So, let me get this straight. Or not so straight? Heh. Your assistant, who drives you crazy every damn day is going to sort-of-real, sort-of-fake marry you and we’re all going to have to be interviewed and tell them that sure, you and Grantaire are in love and married?”

“That is correct.”

Then he began to laugh again.

“Courfeyrac! Come on, please!” Enjolras whined after a moment, dragging a hand down his face. “Just... I’m meeting him at noon and I want to at least make him think he’s marrying someone who has it together. Might make him feel better about having to wait to get divorced.”

“I uh... Ha. S-Sorry, sorry. Damnit, that seriously hurt, I swear I pulled a muscle. Turn the phone to the wardrobe, let me see.”

Enjolras did as he was told, flipping the camera and watching on screen where Courfeyrac wrinkled his nose and squinted as he surveyed the options. 

“You sure own a lot of navy, Enj. Dark, muted colours and suits. Do you own anything that couldn’t at least pass as semi-formal wear?”

“Excuse /you/, I own jeans. And at least two pairs of sweatpants and a few t-shirts from when Combeferre took me shopping and made me buy casual wear. Thank you very much.”

“Yeah, but that was when we though you gave yourself stomach ulcers out of stress, you needed it. You needed comfortable clothing. Uh... Okay. Okay, the red button down at the end of the rail. Either black trousers or black jeans. Jeans are more casual but I know you’ll lean towards formal trousers. Those shoes you wore to last week’s meeting. Do not, for the love of god, wear a suit jacket. No. Either go with that black jacket you have or the cardigan that Jehan got you for your birthday.”

As he spoke, he dropped the phone onto the bed and began to dress, looking at himself in the mirror as he tried to tame his curls a little. It took him a moment of trying on both jacket options but, in the end, he went with the cardigan. Courfeyrac, whilst he did that, was still on the line (with a nice view of the ceiling) and going on about the agenda for the next meeting.

“Mhm, well, we’ll have to organise the wedding for sometime nearby so perhaps make sure everyone knows the meeting for this week might have to be moved to another day. Do I look okay?” He picked up the phone, pointing it at the mirror he stood in front of.

Courfeyrac wolf whistled down the phone. “Grantaire is a lucky man. We better be invited to this wedding. Might look suspicious if we aren’t.” He couldn’t help but smirk as the camera was flipped round and Enjolras was quite clearly pursing his lips. Maybe that was a situation he hadn’t considered yet. Their actual wedding with his friends there. 

“We’ll see. Talk soon, Courf, go take a nap.” He was met with a wave and stifled yawn before he hung up and slid the phone into his back pocket. 

The rest of the day passed by in a blur of phone calls, emails, texts and paperwork before he found himself outside the coffee shop. He was pacing the sidewalk before he stepped closer and made it clear he was waiting for someone to arrive. Then he saw him. Grantaire, talking on the phone and wearing a scarf. It was easy to ignore the way his heart thumped pathetically in his chest and instead have it pinned down to caffeine induced palpitations. After all, it was a more feasible explanation than finding Grantaire cute in a green scarf and dark curls that looked impressively soft. 

“No, look- I can’t talk about this right now. Yes, I know and I’ll let you know what’s going on. I can’t tell you something that I don’t know! I can’t talk about this right now, I have to go. Why? Why do you think? Uh-huh, he’s here. Just.” Grantaire half grinned, meeting Enjolras’ bewildered gaze. “My mom says hi. Yeah, see, I told him.” Enjolras stumbled to murmur a hi back, not having considered Grantaire’s family in all of this. He supposed family had become something he didn’t consider often. “He says hi back. Uh-huh, sure, mom. Okay, I get it! I’ll call you later, tell granny not to touch anything in that room, it doesn’t need painting. Bye.”

Enjolras simply blinked at the brunette as he exited the call and slid the phone into his pocket. “Was... That your mother?” He eventually asked.

“No, it was the pope. Of course it was my mom. What gave it away, me calling her mom?” He teased, nudging him with his elbow and letting out a snort of laughter before he moved to lead the way inside. That was new. Enjolras didn’t usually follow anyone’s lead.

Nevertheless, he followed Grantaire inside almost awkwardly, clearly not accustomed to dating and how you were supposed to act in these kinds of situations. It was only when Grantaire spoke that it snapped him out of his overthinking. “Can I get a green tea with honey and an Americano with oat milk and two extra shots of coffee please.”

He knew his coffee order. The blush in his cheeks and the surprised blinking was the last thing he wanted to do in that moment! Of course Grantaire would know his coffee order, he brought him coffee every day. Sometimes, he didn’t even need to ask and just his bad mood in itself would be a cue for coffee. But this time, in this moment, there was something so... Personal about Grantaire reciting his order like it were his own. Like this was just one of many dates where they ordered coffee and tucked away into a corner booth, cosy and cradling their cups between their hands. Which is where they ended up. 

Enjolras rolled his shoulders a little to force himself to relax as they settled into the cushioned booth seat, both turned to look at one another. 

They chatted for a little while, their cups emptying slowly as the conversation drew out. What was usually tense snapping and argumentation had somehow become semi-calm conversation but with a healthy dose of sarcasm and teasing. Maybe getting out of the office to spend a little time hadn’t been a terrible idea. 

“Then Levi took one look at me and I just started laughing. He’d used all the tape to make a ball for office hockey and now Kiera desperately needed it. So she had to try and use staples. It was a disaster.” Grantaire said through laughter, finishing up an office story.

“Seems like a waste of tape to me. Especially office tape. Office supplies.”

With a heavy sigh and a drawn out roll of his eyes, Grantaire just fixed Enjolras with a look. “Do you ever do anything to just.... Have fun? Like, not for some big cause or some greater purpose. For /yourself/. For fun. Like playing office hockey with a ball of tape, for example.”

It took him a moment to answer, sipping the last little bit of his coffee to put off having to provide an answer. “Yes. Maybe... I once did karaoke at a bar. One time, that was enough. I went for a run in the rain once. Just because.” He paused, speaking again when Grantaire snorted into his cup, “What? What now?”

“Nothing, nothing, just... I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so... Inexplicably selfless. And.. Rigid.”

“I’m not rigid!”

“Oh, yeah? Are you sure about that?” Grantaire questioned with a wink.

Enjolras scowled to try and hide the fierce blush that rose in his cheeks, setting down his cup on the table. “Shut up. Your mom, is she okay? It sounded like you guys were getting into it when you were on the phone earlier.”

Grantaire hesitated a little, enjoying watching Enjolras tuck his legs up beneath him on the seat. It was nice to see him at least a little comfortable and not in a desk chair or striding somewhere with purpose. “Yeah, she’s all good. Comes with having a big family. Told her about this whole situation and she’s just worried. Which makes sense. Moms worry and she won’t take ‘I’m an adult and I can handle this’ for an answer.”

Enjolras nodded, playing with a loose thread on the sleeve of the cardigan. It was a bit of a nervous habit for him that he hadn’t even realised he had until the dry cleaner commented that all his suit jacket sleeves had threads pulled loose. That and family wasn’t exactly a topic he found himself discussing often. Or at all. “How big is your family?”

“Quite big. Let’s see if I can remember, huh?” Grantaire whistled lowly, clearly in thought as he tucked his own legs beneath him too. “Well, there’s my mom and dad. Still married and live together. There’s my granny, lives with them but in her own little sort of apartment-like section. I have four sisters, one brother. Three nephews, one niece born and one more on the way. Three of my sisters are married and my brother is dating, so there’s their partners too. Then one uncle on my mom’s side and two aunts on my dad’s side. They all live nearby, it’s... Kind of a small town.”

Enjolras took a moment to process that, his mind doing flips as it tried to memorise all of that information. He was usually good at this sort of thing but he knew he would need to make notes. “Oh, a small town? I take it you’re not from around here then?”

“Can you even ask that if you wouldn’t tell me where you’re from?” He asked with an almost mischievous grin, nudging Enjolras’ jean clad knee with his hand. 

After pausing for a long moment and considering if he wanted to divulge any information, the blonde responded, “I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“You go first.”

Hesitation came first but it was followed by a quiet answer, “Canada.”

“Canada? I thought Canadians were supposed to be nice! Sorry aboot that, eh?”

It was at that moment that Enjolras popped the lid from his coffee cup and threw it at Grantaire. He watched as the lid bounced off of his dark hair and as he began to laugh heartily. 

“Okay, okay,” he continued, “enough of the stereotypes, my bad. Guess you learn something new every day. Family?”

Enjolras pretended to be occupied with picking the lid up from the floor, long forgotten asking Grantaire to tell him where he was from, as he popped it back on the cup and looked around for the recycling bin for the cups. The ethical side to this store was what made it one of his favourites. That and the donations to charities that were made when you made purchases there. 

“Enjolras.”

“Hm?” He looked up, eyes meeting Grantaire’s. It took him off guard for a moment, surprised by how genuine and concerned his gaze seemed to be. So much could be contained within such a simple glance from Grantaire and he hated that he found himself reading into it. But luckily, his silence gave his assistant a cue to change the subject and switch up the conversation a little. That and the glance to his phone, that had buzzed during the time they were just staring silently, seemed to help with the change in conversation. Whoever had texted him had clearly given him something to talk about, by the way he inhaled slowly and his lips fought off a smirk.

“I hate to break this to you, boss, but uh... I think I’ve found our wedding venue.” He lifted his phone and waved it a little. “As kindly and very firmly insisted by Mama Grantaire. It’s... In my hometown, actually. There’s a nice local venue she says she can do up to look pretty and, that way, all my family can be there. It’ll save us money on catering and decor and we can use the money to fly out family and friends instead, whoever you want there. That and if it’s in my hometown, it’s kinda more convenient for them. Don’t really want Granny or my heavily pregnant sister to be flying right now.”

“Oh. /Oh/. Okay uh.. And where’s that?” He asked, mostly just glad the conversation had diverted somewhere else. 

“You’re not going to like it.” Grantaire warned, letting his legs slide down so he could move away quickly if necessary. 

“Just spit it out, will you?” Enjolras pushed impatiently, a furrow to his brow that Grantaire found he wanted to poke with his index finger. If nothing else, just to irritate Enjolras further. There were a long few beats of silence before he eventually answered, voice sure and clear so it couldn’t be misheard or misunderstood.

“Alaska.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have chapter two! Thank you so much if you’ve gotten this far, stay tuned for the next chapter which should be hopefully coming soon!


End file.
